


Duct Tape and Gauze (the Best Bandage)

by Coppercurls



Series: Improvised Healing [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: (as there is in canon), Depression, Gen, Light Swearing, No Incest, Oops, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Slow Burn, Suicide mention, Underage drug and alcohol use, blunt discussion of school shooting, but the end goal is happiness, there is some angst, this is angstier than anticipated, this starts right after they become 13 again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-04-23 06:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19145371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coppercurls/pseuds/Coppercurls
Summary: Vanya had caused the end of the world. In another reality, another life. Her siblings have a plan to stop her. To "fix her." She had a plan of her own.This was their second chance, after all. So who did she want to become?akaVanya builds herself. She explores. She decides. All while feeling alive.





	1. Chapter 1

In all acts of adaptation, there is an adjustment period. There are large adaptations: the evolution of what few survived the dinosaur extinction, adaptations that take generations for the dust to settle. There are also small adaptations: a rearranged kitchen to accommodate more tea mugs, the owner may grab a bowl when they meant to grab a glass some few times, but that’s the whole of the adjustment. 

And there are those adaptations that fall in the middle—life changing but not earth shattering.

This act of adaptation almost was earth shattering. Vanya knew that she was not one to survive a shatter. 

She felt an expulsion. A jolt of noise loud enough to shake her free of that calm fury engulfing her. A jolt of noise and in that split second her instincts kicked in: she must feel nothing. So she expelled every ounce of fury and panic and collapsed as her brothers dropped to the ground. 

Remember; the death of the dinosaurs was not the only mass extinction on earth. 

The earth would still be smoldering long enough for an out-of-time boy to grow into a hardened man and leave and the world would still be ablaze, and this was not an adjustment period Vanya would survive. 

At the core of things, Vanya didn’t want to survive. Because, see, she shouldn’t have been born at all and she never thought her birth a miracle. Born to a young woman who was forced into an out-of-the-blue labor and sold to a man who collected and created the unexplainable. 

She used to think: ‘my birth mother must have tricked him somehow because I am ordinary, and I wasn’t supposed to be with her and I certainly wasn’t supposed to be with him and all I am is a ghost. I only fill up space to the inconvenience of others.’ 

See, even with the absurd circumstances of their birth, her siblings should have been born. They added to the world, existed in ways that shaped other people’s lives. They had powers, and they used them to fight for good. They were going to stop the apocalypse one day. That’s what their father always said. 

(‘You cannot help them,’ their father always said, ‘you are nothing important, just nothing. Do not hinder them, Number Seven.’)

She now thought: ‘if the world was a frozen lake, other people have left patterns in it, dents. And here I am with a blow torch and a vengeance to melt it all away burn until the only life left is cockroaches maybe their descendants have more promise. I shouldn’t have been born, then maybe my siblings wouldn’t have had an apocalypse to train for maybe Father wouldn’t have been so harsh.

‘Maybe this time around little Five will find all our bodies and when he makes it back in time he’ll know just to end me. I shouldn’t be allowed to do this.’

Vanya imagined she wouldn’t have to adjust to death. That death simply was, no effort or change involved. 

When she woke up (the image of the moon splintering into the sky was still seared in her mind) she knew she was in an adjustment period. 

Which meant she survived the shattering of the earth. 

She couldn’t bring herself to cry.

~

She could hear them speaking even before she swam into consciousness. She continued to hear them once she was awake. 

Luther looked human and Diego didn’t have his scar yet and Allison’s neck was unmarked and oh God Ben was there they were all there and this was how Vanya knew the drugs were still in her system. She didn’t shake or scream or sob. 

No, she stared. She watched Allison’s neck as she talked and knew how it looked under a waterfall of blood. She did that. 

Her siblings didn’t seem to crave her input in this discussion. That wasn’t new. But they were talking about her and Allison hadn’t let go of her hand and Five kept looking at her and Luther refused to. (She saw his shame. Not for her sake, of course. But he had failed his ultimate mission.)

She hoped part of their plan involved her not having to take those meds. They tasted like chalk and coated her mind in chalk and throat and to speak felt like another life. That medicine kept her separate from the world and she’d never not been numb until she became a murderer. 

She couldn’t wet the chalk enough to say anything.

In another lifetime she knew the melodies of resonation well enough to lead it to dance. She knew the rejection of deafness for a moment. (She wondered if that would help, clawing her ears out. Without the resonance, she was nothing. Ordinary.) 

The hushed hum of her siblings constant arguing was a roar after she knew that silence.

After he read her book, Diego called her too sensitive. He might have been right. 

Through her haze of nonexistence, Vanya felt Allison speak. (And how had that happened? Vanya curled with her head on her sister’s chest?) (She could hear it there, not only Allison’s words but her heart beat.) (Alive.)

“That’s enough for tonight,” Allison said, and a commotion rose. “No. Look at her.” Vanya looked as well, to meet their critical eyes. “We’ll regroup tomorrow. For now, we act like we’re twelve again.”

Luther tried to speak, but Allison was ruthless. (A lioness.) “I’ll stay with her. We’re done.”

Her brothers filed to the door, checking the coast was clear before darting one by one into the dark. Every one of them glanced back as they did. Five was last, and their eyes locked for the briefest of moments, his face betraying nothing, before he twisted away with a light pop.

The best course of action would be for her to die. 

Five had fought his whole life to stop the apocalypse. She wondered why he hadn’t pulled the trigger yet. 

The door of her room closed, and she felt solid again, real enough for words to tumble from her mouth, “I’m sorry I’m sorry, I swear, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry Allison, I’m so sorry…”

Allison had the presence of mind to let her babble apologies. Vanya felt fingers combing through her hair and felt herself being held close. She felt Allison hum with sorrow while she sobbed. 

Somehow, she fell asleep. Clutching at her sister because she was the only lifeline Vanya could grasp. It took so long. 

How long had her siblings loved her? How long had she not known?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the angst and exposition, but it had to happen. I have a plan, and I think it's going to be good :)
> 
> I'm not going to dictate a set update schedule, as I am a hot mess, but I am really feeling this story, so hopefully it won't be too infrequent. I'd love any feedback in the mean time!
> 
> Thank you!!
> 
> *edit 7/20/19: polished for completed work


	2. Chapter 2

Five loved his family. They all knew that as a fact. It took Vanya a week (back in the past, back when they were twelve, back before they had all given up on being good people) to realize Five might not consider her family anymore. 

Or maybe it was just her crippling self-doubt. 

Or maybe it was the fact that he buried his siblings in a burning wasteland. A wasteland he blindly walked into at thirteen, suddenly trapped in a new reality. Trapped there for God knows how long. (They’d been piecing it together as best they could. Best guess was around 35 years in the apocalypse. 10 years as a contract killer.) 

She knew he fell in love there. Delores. (He hadn’t introduced her to Vanya.) (He may have been preoccupied.) Vanya wondered if he’d find her again. (Five used to seek Vanya out.) 

Who knew what 45 years of hell had grown her brother into.

(Remember, she brought this hell to reign on earth.) (She can’t forget this.) (She hears it still.) (The moon being split like a geode or a coconut, one single deafening crack.) (She thinks she’s deaf in her old body.)

For a week she has been woken up by Mom at 5:45 in the morning. She helped her father with her siblings ‘training’. (And God does she feel guilty as she sees their eyes now. They aren’t motivated by this constant competition anymore. They’re scared. They’re exhausted. They thought they were done with this.) 

She was almost scared at how easily they fell into their expected roles. But they had their plan in place. Allison had told her that first morning. 

Step 1: ween Vanya off her power-suppressing medicine. This was simple, Mom would give her two pills in the morning with her orange juice. Vanya would lift them both, take one, and slide the other into her sleeve, to flush when she went to the bathroom. (Bathrooms were the only places they knew didn’t have cameras.)

Step 2: help Vanya learn control. This was a bit trickier, as it involved sneaking out. But even without Five’s powers, all the others had plenty of experience sneaking out. They’d lived their teenage years in this chokehold, even Luther needed a break. 

Step 3: try and be less douchebaggy this time around. Vanya didn’t know if this was possible. They’d never been able to set aside their drama for anything before, why would they be able to now—when emotions are running hotter than ever. Things would be different, of course, but that wouldn’t make them into better people, and it sure as hell wouldn’t make them able to work together.

It wasn’t lost on Vanya that the apocalypse prevention plan revolved around her. Around fixing her. It made her skin crawl at times. She wasn’t ordinary anymore, so she was noticed. 

(She knew it was more nuanced than that. She did. But apparently the bitterness she had poured into her book had found its way back into her skin.)

(She wanted another chance, too. She had done wrong by all of them but maybe this time…)

(This time would be different.)

Even with this plan, Vanya quickly realized that she was never left alone. She appreciated Allison spending the night, and she loved Mom more for not mentioning it to Reginald. 

(She had killed Mom, in that last life, her and Pogo and Vanya could barely look at them.) (She wondered how much the guilt would hurt once she was off her meds.) 

(It would hurt a lot.)

Then Klaus would sit next to her at breakfast and talk her ear off about… something. Someone would always sit with her during study time, and even Luther made it in to listen to her violin practice. She would take notes in their group training, while Diego and Allison and Ben and Klaus made faces at her. At times, she could barely keep a straight face.

Even during their nightly rituals, Vanya would leave the bathroom to Ben sitting next to the door. “I wanted to beat Klaus,” he would claim, but Vanya caught on.

It would be suffocating but she had never experienced this much attention before. It was such a foreign feeling and Vanya was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for things to go back to normal, for her to reclaim the unseen background. 

And every night, exactly three hours after lights out, Five would pop in to take Vanya to train in some abandoned field or other.

The seventh night of this was when Vanya finally felt something. 

Some combination of her decreased dose and the absolute whirlwind of the last couple weeks (God, reality was rewritten in less than two week) had left her responding to Five’s goading, screaming her eyes white and a whirlwind around her.

Five let her scream. Until the trees began to crack. He teleported right next to her and pulled her close into a hug. He held on for the minutes it took her to collapse. 

He sat right next to her as her tears dripped silently down her cheeks.

“We need to work on your control,” Five said. Vanya just shook. “We need to make it so you don’t have to be aggravated into your powers, and so you can choose to end it. You’re an uncontrollable entity.”

She thought: ‘just pull out the gun already. You have the heart to do it. Save the world. End me.’

She didn’t say anything. 

She knew by now that it would take Five about another half an hour to have enough energy to teleport them back. Maybe she would suggest a night off soon. He must have been exhausted. 

(He wouldn’t take a night off.) (He would sneak off every morning to get coffee, he had already started doing this.) (At this rate, she needed to start asking for some.) 

Old Five was much more reserved than young Five. She knew young Five so well, enough to get a read of his emotions, enough that he trusted her with his plannings, and even at times his feelings. 

And so this silence was deafening. 

And so Vanya found herself asking, “Will you leave this time?”

The dryness of his single, “Ha,” caught her off guard. 

“No, I can’t leave our idiot family to cause the apocalypse again.” 

She chewed her lip. She wondered if she could even cause the apocalypse again, she knew she had powers, and it took so much energy to be bitter. 

She wondered how Five could manage it constantly.

“I’m glad you’re staying.”

He hummed acknowledgment at her words but allowed them to lapse into silence. Silence was never a natural state for him. He’d always be mumbling or ranting or sniping and that fit so well as Vanya only really wanted to listen. She wondered how else he had changed. 

The night was still now, no wind, but some lightning bugs had re-entered the meadow. Vanya hadn’t noticed scaring them off. 

“It’s our birthday soon,” Five said abrubtly, startling her.

“Yeah.” She clutched her knees to her chest. “Who would’ve thought we’d be thirteen again?”

Five snorted. “I had that revelation a couple weeks ago, actually.”

Vanya smiled. But she let the silence grow again. 

She could feel Five’s brain on overdrive, trying to put something into words. She still knew him well enough for that.

“I think I’ll let Grace name me this time.”

Vanya blinked. She was not expecting that. “Why?”

“Five is a murderer.” The vibration of each word hung heavy in the air. “I’m not going to jump again. I’m here to stay. I’m going to become someone new. 

“I can’t do that again.”

Her throat was clogging with emotion. She couldn’t believe he still trusted her with this. The only response she could think of was to reach for his hand.

He flinched away and she refused to admit how much that hurt. 

He jumped to his feet quickly, saying, “Okay, I’m good to go now.” 

Moments later she was back in her room listening to Allison’s snoring and the light pop of Five leaving. 

She got into bed, feeling like she had whiplash. 

Even with the comfort of Allison next to her, she hadn’t gotten to sleep by the time Mom was gently opening the door to wake them. Thoughts of a wasteland and her powers and Five’s name and his past and the new possibilities this future held kept swirling in her head. It took through breakfast to shake that anxiety off. 

It was a new day, after all. And she had many decisions to make.

~

“Luther.” He nodded. Vanya couldn’t remember how he reacted before, during their first name, but she imagined it was similar. He wasn’t sure if Reginald supported the names last time, so it had taken him awhile to warm up to it. As for now, he was just a bad actor. Stoic had been his default the last week and a half.

Mom moved on to stand in front of “Diego.” He threw his arms around her. Vanya and Diego had their differences, but she always appreciated how much he loved Mom. She deserved so much.

“Allison.” She smiled so bright it could rival the moo—(No not the moon not the moon the sun)—a smile that could rival the sun (because the moon was falling and Allison was dying and.) Vanya wished she could hold her sister’s hand.

Then it was “Klaus.”

“Danke Mutter,” he responded, bouncing up on his toes to kiss her cheek. Mom smiled back at him, cupping his cheek lightly before moving on.

Vanya held her breath.

“Rhys.” The world froze. None of them could move beyond staring at Five—now Rhys—in awe and surprise and curiosity.

“Rhys,” he echoed back at her. Vanya could see him tense, his hands fisted in the fabric of his shorts.

Knowing Five as he was, emotions were not his strong suit. He defaulted to anger and hostility when he was uncomfortable. The longer he went without speaking the more Vanya felt like she was on the edge of a cliff. Then he spoke. 

“That will do nicely, Grace, thank you.”

Mom smiled at him, and it was times like these that Vanya knew she was more than a machine. A vacuum couldn’t be this proud of a boy.

“Ben.” He smiled his signature soft smile that Vanya had missed for so many years. He used to smile at her like that, before, when she’d sit down next to him and ask for his help on their language homework.

Then Mom was in front of her. “Vanya,” she said, and laid her hand on Vanya’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said, and tried to put all her love into her smile. 

She felt someone grab her hand and squeeze. She looked over to see Ben grinning at her. She couldn’t remember if he did that before. They’d not been all that close.

“Okay, children,” Mom said, turning to face them all. “Let me know what you’d like for breakfast and I’ll get it cooked up.”

~

On their birthday, they didn’t have training or lessons. Dinner was still a set time, but that was the only time of the day they saw Reginald. 

Vanya had no idea what she was going to do with her day. But she wasn’t going to be alone during it. She wouldn’t be surprised if they had a schedule written up. (She should assume better of her siblings.)

As they all finished up their breakfast (Vanya had strawberry and raspberry and blackberry crepes, it was an extravagance she could rarely afford as an adult) Mom called out to her, “Girls, could you help me in the kitchen a moment?”

Vanya felt her anxiety spike. Mom must have realized something was off. She shot Allison a look, and Allison’s eyes were just as wide as Vanya’s. 

They didn’t know what else to do, so they helped their mom clear away dishes and followed her into the kitchen. Mom didn’t speak right away, so she and Allison simply helped put the dishes away after Mom washed them. It wasn’t until they were clearing away the unused fruit that she spoke.

“Girls, I’ve noticed you’ve been having a lot of sleepovers recently.” 

Vanya froze, and locked eyes with Allison. Their sleepovers were definitely against the rules. 

Vanya had known it wouldn’t last but still, what little sleep she got was constantly broken, by her own nightmares and by Allison’s. She didn’t know how they’d be able to get back to sleep without the other to be calm in the dead of night. 

“I’ve talked to Pogo about it. I didn’t think it was necessary to trouble your father with such a trivial matter.” Vanya released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding, and she could hear Allison doing the same. “We believe we’ve found an adequate solution. Allison’s room is large enough for two beds, if you would like. You could share a room.”

Allison looked like her smile could split her face. “Vanya, would you want to?”

She was nodding her head before she even thought about it, nodding fast enough to get a headache. Then she froze. 

“Is Reginald okay with this?” she asked Mom.

Grace tilted her head slightly as if in confusion and a smile settled on her lips. “What your father doesn’t know won’t hurt him, silly.”

And Vanya understood. Reginald never came to the bedrooms, and after a lot of convincing from both Pogo and Grace, he decided that teenagers did indeed need more privacy than he had previously allotted them.

He had the cameras removed from their rooms on their thirteenth birthday. That day.

“Oh my God, thank you Mom!” Vanya rushed to her and threw her arms around her waist. She felt Allison join the hug moments later.

“Thank you, Mom,” Allison echoed. She had never been one to echo, but she had changed so much from the spoiled, selfish girl Vanya used to know. 

They began to rush out of the kitchen, eager to plan their new bedroom, and to tell the others of the update. Before they went up the stairs, however, Vanya pulled Allison back.

“Yay sisters?” she asked.

“Yay sisters!” Allison replied. Vanya couldn’t remember when she’d last smiled so genuinely.

“Now,” Allison said, taking the lead again, “Want to find Klaus and paint our nails?”

Vanya didn’t say anything but she figured running up the stairs was enough of a response

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with tense this chapter, so I'm sorry if it's off!
> 
> I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but this one was up much earlier than I'd thought it would be, so maybe that will keep up
> 
> As always, all feedback is welcome, and thank you so much for reading :)
> 
> *Edit 7/20/19: polish for finished work


	3. Chapter 3

She thought a lot, as she sat with Klaus painting her nails—each finger a different color. If life continued like this, even just a little better than last time, maybe she wouldn’t have to die. Maybe just being close with Allison, and Klaus, a little more, would be enough, even as her relationships with her other siblings stayed uncertain. 

She could see it, she thought. 

A life where she didn’t have to fight through the apathy of her drugs to even enjoy making music, the only true passion she’s ever had. (Helen was right, that lifetime ago, when she said passion was what brought you to the next level.) 

(She couldn’t let her passion be caged again.)

~

It was odd, in a way, rewriting a childhood. 

Vanya could practice without feeling the lingering pain of the carpal tunnel she had when she was 25 (between the constant typing and constant violin, her wrists had to protest.) She saw Luther instinctually duck in doorways, and Diego run his fingers over where his scar was. Klaus would stare at his tattoo-less hands in awe.

Their training was odd too. Vanya knew muscle memory was all in the mind, and Diego was throwing far more accurately than he ever could at thirteen. Allison would bite her tongue on the rumors that had no business being released. Rhys (she still wasn’t used to calling him that) jumped with the ease of the 58-year-old assassin he was. Klaus fell back into his constant stream of chatter, no more one-sided conversations. Now that Ben was alive, he was on his own trying to drown out the ghosts. 

(Vanya noticed something odd between Klaus and Ben as well, they played off each other in every group conversation, as easy as breathing, but they never spent time alone together. Maybe they had been all the other had for too long. Vanya didn’t want to pry.)

Reginald noted their sudden burst of skill in their training and pushed them harder. 

After these three weeks back, Vanya had stopped taking her medicine all together. It was all she could do to keep herself from stealing one of Diego’s knives and murdering the sadistic bastard outright. 

Thank God he had never payed her enough attention to notice her uptick in emotion. That would have been disastrous.

~

One afternoon, in late-October, Vanya sought Diego out in their allotted study time. She usually spent it with Ben, her language skills still needed work, and he could help her with biology as well in exchange for math help. But today was different. 

She had a favor to ask. And she was nervous.

Before all of the apocalypse business, her relationship with Diego was strained and tumultuous. She still cared for him, and she hoped he had still cared for her, even with all the hurt between them. She trusted him, though. Somehow, she still did. 

She found him in his mat room, with an enlarged periodic table tacked to the quick board. She watched him for a minute as he focused (though she had no doubt he had clocked her entrance.) He would throw a dart, and whichever element it hit he would recite. She thought it was a clever way to study.

When he ran out of darts, he turned to nod at her. “Hey Vanya, what’s up?” 

(It had been over five years since they’d seen each other, back at the funeral, ‘what is she doing here?’ She had deserved that.)

“Remember how you said I was a liability?” She felt a vindictive kind of joy when he flinched. Then she tried to quash that emotion. It felt ugly.

“I’m sorry, Vanya, I was harsh but—”

She cut him off. “I don’t want to be a liability anymore.” He turned and stared at her. “I want you to teach me some self-defense, maybe even how to fight.”

“Huh,” Diego said. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

Vanya fought the urge to roll her eyes. She was finding that it was hard to be nice and understanding all the time. Especially with her siblings. She understood now why Rhys was always calling them idiots.

“Well, I thought I’d ask.”

Diego thought on it, throwing darts in the meantime. Vanya didn’t mind. She knew Diego was one of the more emotionally constipated of them, and he’d need his time to think through any decisions that his hot head didn’t make instantly.

“Yeah,” he said finally, “I think that’d be good. But when will we do it? We’re scheduled pretty tight as it is, and you’re out with Fi- Rhys every night. You do still need sleep, y’know.”

Vanya smiled and huffed a laugh, and Diego sent a wry grin her way in response. (If you live with someone most of your life, if someone is your family, it doesn’t matter sometimes. You just know each other.) 

“I was going to ask Reginald. I have a pretty strong argument set up.”

“Alright, let’s give it a try.” He started packing away his darts in their case.

“Wait, now?” She hadn’t been expecting that.

“There’s no time like the present,” Diego said, and she was left to trail after him as he led the way to their father’s office.

~

Reginald listened to their proposal intently and emotionlessly, the way he did everything. 

(Vanya was so glad this man would die one day.)

She found herself rambling in the face of that stare, something she didn’t think she had ever done before. “And as the Umbrella Academy has started all their missions, the bad guys are taking more notice of them, us, and imagine how bad it would be if someone kidnapped me, the secret sister, and held me for ransom or something—”

He held up a hand to cut her off. He looked at Diego. “And you are willing to teach her?”

Diego nodded stiffly. “Yes, sir.”

“Very well. Starting tomorrow, you will take the two hours after lunch to teach her every day except Sunday. I feel we were coming to a standstill in your individual training—” Vanya felt Diego bristle beside her, so she pressed her foot against his. She hoped he knew it for the act of solidarity it was. “—so we will see where this little experiment takes us in the meantime.”

Vanya and Diego nodded as Reginald went on to outline his expectations. When they left, Vanya pulled her brother into a long overdue hug. “Thank you.”

Diego patted her back awkwardly. “Yeah, yeah.” And when Vanya released him, she saw a faint smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there's a vague plot to this! I just love sibling dynamics and it's so important for me to explore how they are changing in the Hargreeves family.
> 
> That in mind, if any of y'all have any requests for siblings you specifically want to see, I can easily work that in, so just let me know :)
> 
> Comments and kudos, as always, are welcome. Thank you for reading!
> 
> *Edit 7/20/19: polish for finished work


	4. Chapter 4

Before she knew it, months had passed, and they had fallen into a rhythm. Her practice with Rhys had been cut back to three nights a week, after the minimal sleep had begun affecting their days. 

On the other nights, the seven of them (when they could swing it) would have “sibling bonding time.” Vanya thought this was a far too clinical thing to call donuts at Griddy’s and movie nights, but she thought it might help some of them to distance themselves from being too childish.

(That was odd in and of itself. In reenacting their childhood, Vanya would, at times, feel as if their past life was a dream. They would all fall into adolescence so easily.) 

(Then Ben would walk into a wall or forget to eat.) (Then Klaus would scratch ravines in his skin.) (Then Allison would wake her in the dead of night, screaming for Claire.) (Or one of her other siblings and one of their other traumas.)

Vanya even began to journal, once the constant makeovers from Allison and Klaus became too much. She would write of her emotions and thoughts, of course, but also anecdotes of their lives, reminiscent of a memoir she wrote when she was twenty-three. 

This time was different, though. She allowed herself to be bitter out loud, sniping at her siblings, fighting with them outright. And so her writings were more documentary than cathartic. 

She asked Luther about what it would look like when the earth would breach the horizon of the moon. He told her of its colors, of the plant he kept, of the garden he was drawing semantics for.

She asked Diego about his lady cop. Her name was Patch, Vanya learned, and their first date was a picnic in a park that Diego had cooked. He had been on the phone with Grace for hours for advice, yet he didn’t check the weather. Patch never let him forget it.

She asked Allison about the fashion in L.A. One day Vanya wanted to ask about Claire, the niece she never got to meet, but she didn’t want to hurt Allison. It was still so fresh.

She asked Rhys about Delores. He told her of the mannequin’s sharp wit, and how she’d remind him to eat when he got caught up in his equations. (When Vanya wrote this down she was sure to note the way that Rhys couldn’t quite hide his smile completely. She was sure to note the way his voice caught each time he said her name.)

She asked Ben what he had missed most about being alive. He thought on it so long that Vanya worried she had mis stepped. But when he answered, “Good music. Klaus’s taste is garbage.” Vanya laughed. That day, their study time was spent combing through vinyls.

She hadn’t figured out what to ask Klaus about. She didn’t know of anything in his life that wasn’t linked to trauma. But she still wanted to talk to him. Learn about him.

So she snuck into his room one night a couple hours after lights out with a bottle of scotch as a peace offering. 

She opened the window to the sticky sweet smell of weed. It reminded her of a morning, back when they were twenty-one, that Klaus had broke into her apartment and she woke to him cooking eggs and smoking a joint. Maybe she’d write about that.

Klaus was lounging off the side of his bed wearing only flannel pajama pants and his signature eyeliner. He saw her as she climbed in, and he started giggling. “Van-Van, how’d you get upside down?”

Vanya rolled her eyes and let a fond smile grow on her face. “You’re upside down. And high.” She sat next to him. “You better have saved me some.”

He gasped, fanning his face melodramatically. (He was only ever like this when he was high. She thought he was a ghost some days, just haunting around.) (His eyes were still haunted even now.) “I didn’t know you were such a rebel, little sis!”

The joint he was waving around looked like it was barely lit. “I have my wild side,” she said, grabbing the lighter. She took a hit, letting herself cough when it hit her lungs. “And by wild side I mean I’ve smoked with you a couple times.”

“Oh my God,” Klaus said, squishing his face with his hands, “I corrupted my baby sister and I don’t even remember!” He stole the joint and took a long drag. “Oh, woe is me!”

He flopped around until his head was resting on her legs. He kept smoking. Vanya tangled her fingers in his hair. (Klaus was the definition of touch starved.) (She was trying to fix that.) 

“We’re the same age, Klaus.”

“Oh contraire! We were the same age! Then there was all the time travelly stuff.”

As he waved his arms around, Vanya took the joint back and watched the particles of smoke dissipate in her exhale. (She thought she might hear them.) “We all time travelled together. How are you older?”

“Oh no no. The first time I time travelled. With the—” Klaus broke into giggles again—“With the war. Ten months older now bay-byyy!” 

Vanya was opening her mouth but he kept going. “Hey, is that whiskey?”

“Hm?” Vanya looked at the bottle she brought in. She relit the joint. “Oh, no. It’s scotch.”

“Yum, Daddy’s scotch, I’ve missed this shit.” He maneuvered to sit up next to her, leaning both on her and the wall to stay upright. “I’d drunk it dry.”

He fumbled with the cap enough that Vanya took pity on him. She handed him the joint (which he promptly finished off) and quickly opened the bottle to take a drink.

She screwed up her face. “This is for sure an acquired taste.” She took another drink and started to giggle. “It’s so bad.”

“Don’t worry Van! I’ve got the taste down alright.” With that he took the bottle and chugged some down.

“Klaus!” She admonished. “You’re in a 13-year-old body, don’t fuck it up!”

“Sis, ‘f I’m gonna tell you ‘bout ‘Nam I can’t be any kind of sober.”

She felt her blood run cold. “Vietnam?”

“Yeah yeah. Y’know, those scary time people kidnapped me and I stole their briefcase. I thought there’d be money or something. But nope, got zapped right on back to 196 fucking 8. A Shau valley.”

“Shit,” Vanya said. She rested her head on his and borrowed the bottle. “Ten months?”

“I would’ve stayed longer.” She’d never heard Klaus’s voice so flat. “I would’ve stayed forever for him. We wanted a house with lilac trees out front.”

Vanya had never heard her brother so open before. Yes, he was the most talkative, but that was just for the noise of it, he never actually said much. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “What was his name?”

“Dave,” Klaus said with a dopey grin. “Drugs were tricky to come across sometimes, but he’d smile at me and talk my ear off and Christ his voice was honey.”

“Weren’t the ghosts bad there?”

“Vanya, they’re bad everywhere.” He took another long drink. “I knew so many addicts and homeless people that would die on the streets from O.D.s or the cold their ghosts were skeletal. I would watch their eyes as they lost grip with reality. 

“War was barely different. Their bodies weren’t pale and drained, though, they were so colorful, Van. Their skin was so tan and their blood would be everywhere against their army greens. When Johnny died, God, his eyes were so blue. Like ice. His head was blown in, his body was so fragmented, blue on brown on red on green. Like technicolor.”

Vanya didn’t know what to say so she just squeezed his hand. 

“I couldn’t stand to see him like that. I had to get out. So few of us got out. I checked. Danny boy, Gomez, Jameson, Corporal Tom.”

She watched him cry. Silently, his eyes staring off into space and tears slipping down his cheeks to stain her pajama shirt. 

“I’m so glad you made it back.” 

(She doesn’t want to know how it would feel to lose him.) (She remembered when he removed her as an emergency contact.) (She never knew if he was alive after that.)

“I’m the junky, sis, it wouldn’t’ve mattered.”

Vanya pulled him into a tight hug. “I miss you all the time. It matters.”

He hummed a tune and drank. “Let’s not talk about this anymore.”

“Okay,” Vanya said, and she started petting his hair. She wondered vaguely if she should push harder but decided against it. She didn’t want to betray his trust. 

She felt a thought begin to form.

They sat there, silence saturating their skin, their blood, a quiet that lulled them to sleep. This was the kind of sleep only bought through comfortable inebriation, the kind of sleep that kept them under as the cricks in their necks grew. 

And if Grace found them in the morning and tutted lightly, clearing away the ashes and butts, sealing the scotch in Klaus’s ‘secret’ hiding space, and pulling a blanket over them so they could sleep a few more minutes, well, the children were none the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder: Vanya is NOT a reliable narrator. This is less important this chapter, but I keep forgetting to mention it 
> 
> Sorry for that unexpected hiatus! Life, man, it can be a bitch
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are incredibly appreciated. Thank you for reading!
> 
> *Edit 7//20/19: polish for finalized work


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. Please note the way the tags have changed, this chapter turned darker than I was anticipating. There is a blunt discussion of a school shooting (though no graphic descriptions) and mention of suicide. This is all in the latter half of the chapter (after "Then came the mission")
> 
> Just wanted to give y'all a heads up.

Vanya had never been one to take charge in changing her own life. She would simply adapt. A traumatic childhood, losing two brothers, entering the world on her own. She fell into the circumstances of her life and then she would adjust.

Coming back in time had been much of the same. She let her siblings plan and plot and she was along for the ride. 

She was starting to wonder why that was. 

She was starting to have ideas, thoughts on how she could help her siblings, how she could help herself, how to change her life on her terms. She knew they were trying, but why should that mean her siblings got to decide how to form her future?

The days following her night with Klaus boiled with these thoughts. She’d never really had the chance to take care of someone else. But better late than never, right?

And so she found herself, a few days after that fateful night, pounding on the bathroom door, yelling at Klaus to “Let me pee, damnit!”

(There were no cameras in the bathrooms.) (Klaus was running the hairdryer so they wouldn’t be overheard.) (She had thought this through.)

Klaus finally swung the door open with a flick of his wrist. He had a towel wrapped around his chest and one for his hair and some green facemask on. “Yes, dear sister?”

“I have to pee, Klaus,” she said, pushing past him. 

“Well, don’t let me interrupt.” With that he closed the door, turning back to the mirror.

Moments later, he turned to Vanya, where she leaned against the sink. “Don’t worry, Van, I won’t peek.”

She laughed lightly. “I just needed to talk to you.” Before he could interrupt, she added, “Privately.”

“Without our siblings sticking their noses into our business, you mean?” She nodded. “Very well.” He fiddled with the settings on the hair dryer, making it somehow louder. Her pulled her over with him to take a seat on the edge of the bathtub. Then he looked at her expectantly. 

Vanya took a breath. She prayed this didn’t offend him. “Since we’ve gotten back, you haven’t done anything stronger than weed, right?”

She didn’t miss the way his eyes hardened even as his easy smile slid into place. “Of course! Other than pot, booze, and the occasional cigarette, I’m clean as a whistle! Can’t fuck up my little virgin body, after all.”

She had definitely hit a sore spot. (She could hear those words in Diego’s or Ben’s voice.) She winced but plowed on with her next (arguably worse) question. “And… the ghosts? Are they bad?”

Klaus let out a single dry laugh, a laugh more fitting of Rhys. “I didn’t start on heroine for shits and giggles, Vanya. I’ve been managing!” He spread his arms wide, nearly whacking her in the stomach. Under his breath, almost quiet enough she couldn’t hear him over the hairdryer. “Not that Ben and Diego would let me get fucked up.”

(She knew she wasn’t supposed to hear that.) (So she didn’t respond.) (The resonances drifted within her now, she could hear so much.) (She still thought she was deaf in her old body.) (Maybe this one was making up for that.)

She decided to grab Klaus’s hand as she chewed on her lip. Then she slipped them out of her sleeve, two blue pills from that morning she had decided not to flush.

Klaus’s eyes caught on them like a parched man saw rain. She wondered again if this was a bad idea. “Are those…?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said softly, “My medicine. I thought, maybe, it could help you?” He just kept looking at them. She began to babble. “I’ve been doing some reading, and my best guess is they’re some mixture of benzodiazepines, antipsychotics, and probably Seroquel. Along with whatever else Reginald concocted, and I don’t really know for sure. I just, I figured it might be better than going back to the streets? Like, they fucked me up pretty bad, but we could try a small dose for a while and see what happens? It’s up to you of course, and I probably shouldn’t be interfering, this is your business after all, I’m sorry—”

“Vanya,” he said, cutting her off. “Thank you.” They sat a moment. “So, think I should start with half a pill in the morning? See where that takes us?”

“Yeah.” She looked at him with a smile and he met it with one twice as bright. “We’ll have to document your moods and any side effects, of course.”

“Of course.” Vanya opened her mouth to continue, but Klaus kept talking. “Now, let me finish doing my hair.” He slipped the pills in his pocket. “We can reconvene on the morrow.”

Vanya tried to hide her smile as she left the bathroom, but she couldn’t quite manage it. Being able to help her brother felt great.

~  
Vanya didn’t want to stop there. She and Klaus would meet every evening and jot down the way the medicine had been affecting him. He agreed that there were benzos in it, but he’d never fucked around with anti-psychotics so beyond that they still weren’t sure. 

He said it wasn’t quite like being high. There was the distance from reality, and sedation, but he managed to hold onto his personality. He hadn’t become a shadow like Vanya had. They were wary of upping the dose, even though it was wearing off by evening, so most nights Klaus still would resort to cigarettes or booze or weed just to get to sleep, but it was so much less than before. 

And Vanya made sure he was less alone at night too. Her and Allison and Diego and even Rhys sometimes would make sure he rarely spent the evening alone, and Diego was the only one who displayed any distaste in Klaus’s habits.

(Vanya would glare at him when he did though, and that would shut him up.) (Vanya had never thought she could ever have power through intimidation.) (Especially against Diego.) (They talked about it while they trained one day.)

(“I just hate that he puts that shit in his body.”)

(“You’ve seen death, Diego,” she said. She practiced a jab-cross-hook combo. “Would you be able to have that screaming on your heels every second of every day?”)

(He was more supportive of Klaus after that.)

She made the mistake one night of wondering aloud why Ben never joined them. (In her defense, she had smoked that night, and she was a bit blitzed, and it was just her and Klaus.)

“Can you blame him?” Klaus responded. “He had to watch me do some fucked up shit in his afterlife, why would he spend his second chance doing that again?”

Vanya thought this wasn’t all there was to the picture, but she wouldn’t pry. She might ask Ben sometime, though, make sure he was doing alright with things. He’d been so secluded since he got back. He spent a lot of time with Luther. They were the last two that were truly part of the academy, after all. 

As Allison turned to acting and Klaus escaped to the streets, Ben and Luther spent more time together. They were close. (Luther nearly collapsed when carrying his body to the infirmary.) (Luther had been able to lift Ben since they were four.)

~

It was already June. 

They had returned to this life the previous September and, God, Vanya felt that chasm growing wider every day. Things were changing. They were changing things so much, and even through her haze of depression and repression and anxiety, Vanya was starting to think she might be able to claw her way to happiness one day.

It was a foreign feeling to her. She had left this house at 18 and swore never to live here again. She figured many of her siblings made the same vow. Yet she was healing somehow. It seemed like the others were, somehow, too. 

It was already June and they were comfortable with the way things were. They had fought for freedoms they never had as children, and it made things that much less traumatic.

Then came the mission. 

Vanya was forced to stay at home, almost breaking her act and screaming at Reginald before Mom led her (grip tight on Vanya’s upper arm) to her room and the mission alarm kept blaring until the other six were out the door. 

Vanya wanted to scream.

She wanted to break free and run to the school.

She could do it, she knew. Her powers were still more wild than contained but she was able to hear bullets as they sped to their marks and she could displace their resonance to fail.

She could scream at a pitch to force the shooter to his knees. 

Instead she asked Mom if they could turn on the news footage and watch. She held on to Mom so tight Vanya felt her hand losing circulation. 

The reporter said the school was in lockdown and her siblings weren’t there yet.

Vanya was 26 when one of her students came to her lesson shaking like a leaf. 

(Kaylie was her name. Kaylie was a lovely player but that day she kept tripping over the same sequence, one she had mastered the week before, just restarting it, messing up, restarting it, messing up, never saying a word. The tears began in the fifth repetition and Vanya finally recognized that Kaylie was trying to play away her sadness and fear. 

Vanya held the fourteen-year-old girl as she talked about a lockdown that lasted for an hour and forty-three minutes while a boy with too many guns evaded the on-site police officer. No one was hurt, there had been no shots fired. 

Just two thousand odd kids sitting in the shadows, afraid to speak, or move, or breathe.)

No matter how much she hated that her siblings were walking into a building where the media guessed reported five students shooting up their peers she wished they would get there faster. This was going to be a story of survivors. 

She felt floaty as she saw the Academy van pull up to the scene, the reporters immediately homing in on it. She said their names, mumbled to Mom nodding along as they piled out of the car. “Diego-Allison-Rhys-Luther-Ben-Klaus” she wished she was there she knew she could help.

She heard gunshots through the tv and her fingers shook as she turned it off. She clung to Mom, her face buried in her shoulder, and she tried not to let the resonance of Mom’s humming explode in her.

For the first time in this life, she wished she could take a pill.

~

That night found all of them, all seven, in the room her and Allison shared. Not one of them said a word. Her and Klaus passed a bottle of rum between them and new hands would scramble for it each time. Things were better, but they needed to leave.

Vanya needed to get out. And she knew she wouldn’t be able to take all her siblings with her.

~

The first time around Rhys (then known as Five) left first. They didn’t see him for seventeen years.

Next was Klaus, really, starting when they were fourteen. He was gone more often than not, but it wasn’t until Ben that he disappeared for good.

And Ben. Vanya found him the next morning. He was seventeen and he had laid out a tarp but some of his blood missed and she knew Mom had cleaned it all away but Vanya took bleach and scrubbed for hours.

Diego left a week after the funeral. Each time he’d walked past Ben’s room he’d vomited.

Allison flew out one month before their eighteenth birthday to commit herself to auditions.

Vanya ate breakfast with Luther on the morning of their birthday and told him she was leaving. She knew he wouldn’t care (she was nothing after all.) (Ordinary.) but part of her wished he would go with her so they wouldn’t be alone.

They were always going to be alone.

She didn’t know how she forgot.

No matter how much their family became, the only way out of that house was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! This is likely the darkest chapter of the work, so while things will still be hella emotional, it'll get lighter.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and the next chapter will be up post haste!
> 
> ** edited 7/1/19 for continuity and grammar  
> *Edit 7/20/19: polish for finalized work


	6. Chapter 6

Reginald was not happy with them after that mission. Vanya highly doubted it was due to their performance as the Umbrella Academy. There was an interview he hadn’t been able to rush them away from. (Allison cried every time she opened her mouth to respond.) Reginald announced the new regiment of training after three days of them being shrouded in mourning.

He handed out the schedule after dinner on a Sunday. “Starting tomorrow, we will train according to this schedule. I expect no confusion.”

Vanya and Allison retreated to their room before looking them over. Vanya realized quickly they had each been given different schedules. Vanya’s was as follows:  
6am Breakfast  
7am Lessons with Pogo (Mondays/Wednesdays: literature & language, Tuesday/Friday: physical science, Thursday: life science, Saturday: history)  
11am Violin practice  
12:30pm Lunch  
1:30pm Assist Grace with household upkeep  
3pm Study of musical theory  
4pm Afternoon rest  
5pm Self-led studies  
7pm Dinner  
8pm Assist Reginald with file organization  
9:30pm Lights out  
* Sundays will be spent in Self led activities, other than meals and Assisting Grace  
* On Wednesdays, Assisting Grace will be forfeited to train with 00.02

There were many aspects of this new schedule that caught her attention, but none so much as assisting Grace around the mansion. Vanya had never been given chores, not in this timeline, not in the last one. 

Things were changing and this time it made Vanya queasy.

She looked up after reading the list to find Allison already watching her, a puzzled look on her face. 

“Look at this,” she said, trading her paper with Vanya’s. Her schedule was as follows:  
6am Breakfast  
7am Combat training (monitored by Grace)  
9am Self-led studies  
11:30am Emotional training  
12:30pm Lunch  
1:30pm Afternoon rest  
2:30pm Lessons with Pogo (Mondays/Wednesdays: literature & language, Tuesday/Friday: physical science, Thursday: life science, Saturday: history)  
7pm Dinner  
8pm Self-led studies  
9:30 Lights out  
* Sundays will be spent in self led activities other than meals and Combat training (which will be held with all Academy members)  
* On Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays Afternoon rest will be forfeited for Power training

“But,” Vanya said, grabbing her schedule back from Allison and double checking, “I’m never going to see you!”

Allison looked ready to kill. “He’s done this on purpose, that fucking bastard. He thinks we’re becoming too caring, too attached. He’s probably done this with everyone, you most of all! He hates that we care about each other, and care about you at all.”

Her fists were clenched, and at some point she had stood. Every one of her muscles was tense, ready to strike. Vanya instinctually wanted to calm her down but she found she was shaking. Allison’s furious whispers resonated, ‘He hates that we care about you.’

Then Allison’s hand was on her shoulder and Vanya realized she wasn’t the only thing shaking. Every object smaller than her fist were hovering and trembling and there was a wind in their closed off room. The electric hum of the lights felt deafening.

It took a crack of thunder for Vanya to break. Everything clattered down the few inches to a surface, and Vanya met Allison’s worried eyes.

“Rhys,” she said, and left the room before Allison could say anything else.

~

When she fell out of the White Out, she blacked out. (‘White Out’ was the phrase they used for when her powers overtook her.) (White out: to restart, redact.) (To take control of a mistake.)

There were dreams in this black out. 

“You’re ordinary Number Seven,” Reginald’s cold voice echoed, his face morphing into Klaus’s, hysterical laughter. 

“Fuck you, Vanya, you’re never going to understand, capiche?” Vanya watched Diego walk away from her, again and again, every time she turned he would leave her, an echo of each time she saw him since the book.

The book. 

Her hands shook as she clasped a publisher’s hand in agreement, she threw back two pills when she could sneak away. She and Allison were at lunch, this was a couple weeks before her book was announced, one of the rare times Allison was near enough and willing enough to visit. 

In real life, they had caught up on the most superficial level, Allison had never dropped her media face and Vanya felt so drained the whole time (it was the last time they saw each other for years.)

In this haze of dream, Allison’s calculated interest twisted more and more sinister, “Do you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend? Anyone you care for? Have you learned how to care for people, Vanya? Have you ever given a shit about anything?” 

Ringing, ringing like a bell, like a siren, like screams. 

Vanya saw Luther, twenty-two-year old Luther, fresh from a mission scanning the crowd and talking to the press and she had pushed to the front, she tried to catch his attention and he didn’t see her, didn’t recognize her.

There was so much noise, too much and she was shaking. She could burn down the world like this—she was playing the violin. 

The stage and audience were emptying but she just filled the new space with more noise—making it clear. 

She heard a gunshot.

The moon splintered.

(That was how she knew she was deaf.)

(The noise had stopped.)

(She realized the resonance had been with her even drugged away from herself and it was gone.)

(It was the first time things were truly silent.)

~

She woke in Rhys’s room, curled on her side, facing the wall. She heard muttering behind her. It felt all too similar to waking up all those months ago. 

She was so, so tired. 

She let her eyes trace the chalk on the wall. Such a familiar scrawl. Reginald hadn’t cared enough to erase it when he had disappeared. She would sit here, if she had time, and wonder at the adventures he was having. She knew better now. The future was shit. (Thanks to her.)

When she woke after ending the world, she hadn’t bothered to listen to what her siblings were saying. Now she did.

“Rhys, you haven’t told us anything!” that was Allison. Vanya loved her sister. She wondered how she had spent so long without that.

“That’s because I don’t know anything.” His whisper was sharp, a near sixty-year-old man bothered beyond his patience. He was out of practice with people in general. Delores was his only companion for years, and however much she challenged him, Vanya was sure she hadn’t tried him the way his siblings did. “She destroyed a square mile of some forest and then she collapsed.”

Some knot in Vanya’s chest loosened. That wasn’t too much damage. 

Thank God. 

“Do you think she’ll be alright?” that was Luther. She hadn’t expected the genuine care in his voice.

“Yes,” Rhys said with no hesitation. “She just needs to rest. She’ll sleep here, so we don’t have to move her. Now go get some sleep, you’ll see her in the morning.”

She listened to the scattered exits, the quiet conversations about the new schedules. They all seemed tense. She was too tired to get angry again. 

When the last of her siblings left, only her and Rhys in the room, it was quieter. She soaked in all the noise she could, to give her life. 

Ben, Luther, and Diego were talking in hushed whispers, the distance of Luther’s room. She didn’t bother to eavesdrop. She listened to the click of Klaus’s lighter and his sigh of relief as he let out the first of the smoke. She listened to Allison curl up in bed.

That’s why when Rhys spoke, she sprang up so quick, like a jack-in-the-box, he was so much louder than what she was listening for.

“You really should sleep, you know.” 

She glared at him, not saying anything as she pulled his blanket around her shoulders. He shrugged, still looking at her. 

“You had a lot of control back there; our work has paid off.” Rhys stood up, starting to rifle through his drawers, coming up with a piece of chalk. He never could focus on one thing for long. He’d always fidget or be on high alert. (Vanya was much more comfortable with that than when his full attention was on her.) (She never knew what he was thinking.)

Vanya didn’t trust herself to speak yet, to make so decisive a sound. She simply nodded and moved to the foot of the bed so Rhys could sit next to her.

He did, facing the wall and drawing seemingly mindless equations. They sat for long moments, the quiet comradery just as comforting as the blanket Vanya clutched.

“I’m not angry at you.” Vanya looked at him sharply, confusion written in her eyes. He continued, “The whole apocalypse ordeal. It was fucking horrible. It was a wasteland and I saw things I will never unsee.

“But I never saw you, your corpse. I knew it was hopeless, but I held onto that empty hope for years. I would tell Delores about you. I read her parts of your book, and told her that I loved when you played Aviary from Carnival of the Animals, how I never thought I could hear the original, because a flute was meant to play the melody, but it sounded so right on the violin.”

He took a deep breath and grabbed Vanya’s hand. (He had flinched when she tried to grab his.) (She never blamed him but God it felt so nice to have this piece of forgiveness.)

“I don’t blame you.”

She let his words sink in, resonating in her skin. She knew what she could create with the noises of anger and heartbreak. She had to try it with noises of happiness sometime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! As you may have noticed, the chapter count has gone up! This chapter was already about my average chapter length and I hadn't even got to what was meant to happen in this chapter.  
> So this one is a little more filler than I like, but the next one will be much more plot concerned.
> 
> Thanks as always for staying tuned! I love hearing from y'all and all that.
> 
> Edit 7/20//19: polish for completed work


	7. Chapter 7

It only took Vanya a couple weeks to adapt her schedule to her liking. Reginald didn’t care much for what she would do with her time, so long as she wasn’t disruptive. 

Mom wasn’t used to having help, and she was under the assumption that she would be teaching Vanya the life skills she would need once she left the Academy. However, Vanya had lived on her own for a decade. Most days she would help Mom with the dishes, and after that Mom would smile at her and tut, “I’m sure you have better things to do with your time, love.”

Vanya knew this was another secret Mom was keeping for them. This time around, Vanya was noticing she did that a lot. Giving them freedom that Reginald would never approve of.

Her chores would keep her busy for a short while, and then she would have some time to spend with her siblings before they had lessons. That time was spent in so many ways. 

Most often she would relax with Klaus and Allison while they did their nails or read magazines or just talked. But she would sit with Ben and Rhys sometimes too, chatting or reading. Diego would be doing whatever Diego did, but on some rare occasions he, Klaus, Ben, and Vanya would have what Klaus called ‘craft time.’ This mostly consisted on gluing things together, or initiating prank wars. 

For around an hour a day, they were able to be children, a luxury they had never been afforded before. (Vanya would think about rent sometimes. Utilities, grocery shopping, thinking she should dust.) (Then she’d remember.) (She had time before she needed to be responsible again.)

Then her siblings would go to lessons. On every day but Wednesday (when she would train with Diego) the rest of her activities were self-led and isolated. From 2:30 until 7, she was free.

It only took two days of spending her evenings with Reginald that she knew she couldn’t stay there, couldn’t live like that for the next four and a half years until she turned eighteen. She couldn’t keep filing the notes on her siblings, on how they responded to different tortures.

She began to scheme. 

~

It was easiest to get to the fire escape through Klaus’s window. That’s where she would be at 2:34 p.m., a messenger bag she’d stolen from Rhys thrown over her shoulder and her violin strapped to her back. The bag held the bare minimum of school work she’d need to do to keep up enough that Pogo wouldn’t tell Reginald she was slacking.

On the afternoons before biology, or occasionally literature & language, she would spend a good chunk of time on her class work. Without being able to study with Ben, life sciences were getting especially difficult again. 

So the messenger bag would be filled to various degrees, with class work or music theory, or books Ben and Rhys would lend her (Luther would even lend her books sometimes.) And she would climb down the fire escape, stepping out of the alley and onto the street by 2:38.

(Any delay would be as she changed out of her uniform. Klaus had eclectic taste yet would still steal the clothes she tucked in his closet.) (This led to a day where she stepped onto the street in checkered vans, a black turtleneck, and a layered, tulle, glittery, purple skirt.) (She had never been so mortified.)

At around 2:52, Vanya would step into a tea shop run by an elderly Pakistani woman. 

Her name was Mrs. Bhatti (though she insisted Vanya call her Rahmiya.) She would make Vanya a different tea every day, and they would sit together and talk for a while. Mrs. Bhatti would call Vanya an old soul, much too weary for her thirteen years, and Vanya would laugh lightly. Mrs. Bhatti would never know how right she was. 

The tea shop was half a block from the nearest public library to the mansion. By 3:40, Vanya would be there, speeding through the class work she had. 

When that was finished, she would do one of four things.

1\. Crack open one of the books she was lent. Ben would give her historical fiction, or even just young adult novels. They were relaxing reads. Much different were the books she would get from Rhys. Those were textbooks, detailing specific moments in history (his annotations dictating the way he changed that timeline) or explaining complex mathematic theories (she tried to read those, she did.) However, it was the books Luther would lend her that always caught her off guard. First, Brave New World, followed by The Tale of Two Cities, and The Great Gatsby, and Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Always accompanied by a simple, “I liked this.”

2\. Write. This was similar to her journal, simply documenting her family’s memories and lives. Reminiscent of a novel she had written, but more compassionate. More detailing the ways she and each of her siblings survived the horrible ‘Mr. Monocle’. She thought she might publish it one day (once they were all safe.)

3\. Leave the library. Find a corner on a street growing busy and unpack her violin. Play until she needed to leave, needed to gather the coins and bills scattered in her violin case. (This was how she paid for tea.) (She had taken Diego down in training one day and figured that meant she could take care of herself.)

4\. She would log onto one of the libraries outdated computers. (She knew it was old technology, but it was still foreign to her.) (Reginald barely allowed them to have a house phone.) One of the librarians (“I’m Paul Wagner, and you are?”) taught her how the search engine worked, and the word processer. This was how she engaged in one of the most dangerous things she’d ever done. 

At least three times a week, she would sit in front of the computer glow, and she would research. 

She never talked to many of the people in her orchestra, but she would still listen in on their conversations when she was bored. She remembered a saxophone player talking to the new double bass player. They had gone to music school together. A high school music academy.

Figuring out an email account wasn’t difficult, and Mr. Wagner was always willing to proofread any messages before she sent them. They all boiled down to the same thing.

“Hello. I’ve been homeschooled all my life and have never had the chance to join an ensemble, but I’ve been playing violin since I could hold one. Would you grant me an audition?”

She sent eight messages to eight schools. She asked Klaus to get her a fake birth certificate, social security number, and passport. She heard back from six schools and sent six responses. She practiced Aviary until her fingers bled (her old room was sound proofed, after all, she should make the most of it.) She scheduled auditions with three schools.

She was happy, but God she was anxious.

~

Allison noticed.

Of course, Allison noticed.

Since they’d begun sharing a room, they didn’t have secrets from each other. They didn’t just come out and spill all their traumas and experiences, but they didn’t hide things. They would hang out, and they would fight with each other, but they would explain after, what had been happening for them.

Vanya had never understood someone so well.

They had become sisters. They’d even become friends. 

So of course, Allison noticed the sneaking out. The constant practice. The espionage. The rendezvous with Klaus that were definitely less than legal. 

Vanya slipped into their room one night, after the notes on the page began to blur together in her exhaustion. 

In her power training with Rhys, she had found a way to transfer the sound of some resonance into energy elsewhere. It was nearly second nature by now, to move in silence and build the wind outside. 

She entered their room silently, yet Allison was staring as she shut the door.

Allison didn’t say anything. She would do that, sometimes. It was a show of good faith, of leaving Vanya to frame the beginning of a conversation. (Vanya had never had control like that.) (Allison had had too much.)

It took Vanya by surprise. “Allison? What’re you still doing up?”

Her face clearly read ‘you’re one to talk.’ Allison didn’t say anything still, just moved to sit cross-legged at the foot of her bed expectantly. Vanya sat facing her. Allison had this weak half-smile on her face as she finally spoke. “What’s been going on?”

The sound of blood beat was echoing through Vanya’s head, and she tried to remember to breathe. ‘This is Allison,’ she thought, ‘this is okay.’

“I’ve been practicing.” Vanya swallowed hard. Breaths went in through the nose, out through the mouth. Allison knew well enough to wait in silence a moment. “I have auditions scheduled this winter.”

Allison lit up and grabbed Vanya’s hands in hers. “That’s fantastic! What for? What are you preparing?”

This easy enthusiasm was part of what made it so easy for her to love Allison. “Um, I’m working on my transposition of the Aviary, and the song Meditation, which is from Thais, for my solo pieces. Also been working on my sight reading, and I’ll have to do interviews so I need to work on my theory and history too.”

“That sounds intense.” Allison was relaxed now, leaning against the wall, yawning a bit. Vanya felt bad for the news she was about to share.

“It’s for music schools. Two in New York, one in Chicago.” Vanya squeezed Allison’s hands tightly. 

“Like…” Allison trailed off. “To go to?”

“I can’t stay here. I just… I can’t.”

“Yeah, yeah, no, I get that, just… I kinda thought we were in this together. As sisters now.”

Vanya hummed, a breeze winding calmly through both her hair and Allison’s. It was easy to choke as each noise she made drew air away from her. She took a deep breath, holding onto it like a balloon before exhaling. “We’ll always be in this together as sisters. 

“But you know as well as I do how the next years will go. Especially with Rhys here, you’ll be constantly away on missions, all over the world, and you’ll start training all of the time. Reginald has already started isolating me even more from all of you, and it’s just going to get worse. 

“I want you all to get out, all of us, together even, but I can’t do anything here. I just have to sit here, and control my temper, and watch as we all get tortured and I can’t do anything.”

Vanya’s voice broke and she started crying in earnest. It wasn’t until Allison pulled her into a hug that she realized Allison was crying too. “You’ll get out,” Vanya said, her words muffled against her sister’s shoulder. “All of us will get out. I just don’t think we can get out together.”

There wasn’t much more to be said, after that. Vanya knew Allison was mad, but that came from fear. Her anger had always come from fear. They were all afraid.

~

After she told Allison her plans, she began to think about telling everyone else. Allison was hoping she would.

“I don’t like keeping secrets, Van. We’re trying to be a family.”

One afternoon, Vanya decided she was right. 

They didn’t have another ‘sibling bonding session’ planned until Friday night (they had scrounged up enough money for movie tickets) (they hadn’t agreed on a movie yet) but she figured she should tell them as soon as possible. 

It was a Wednesday, so Diego would be missing about an hour of lessons to work with her on self-defense. He could get word out to the others.

Vanya hadn’t realized when she was growing up how abnormal it was to be aware that every movement you made and every word you said were monitored. It was something they had all been used to, and they’d readjusted to their old covert ways of communication. 

Their lesson came to an end with Diego saying, “You’re doing really well, V, especially in grappling. Just keep working on keeping your hands up.”

“I think you say that every week, D,” Vanya joked lightly back. 

She picked up his blazer and started to shrug it on, managing to slip her note in the pocket as she did so. 

“Wait,” Diego said, “This is your jacket.” 

Vanya looked at him and immediately had to stifle her giggles. He had somehow managed to get one arm through its sleeve before he realized. It clung tight around his shoulder and upper arm, and the sleeve stopped barely halfway down his forearm.

“You don’t say,” Vanya said, and the returning glare she knew was in good nature. “I found a knife in the pocket, so I figured.”

They traded back as Diego grumbled, “I don’t keep knives in my pockets, I have holsters for a reason…” He trailed off as he felt around in his pocket. She saw the moment he found the note.

“Huh, I must’ve been mistaken,” Vanya said with a shrug.

She ignored Diego’s questioning look. Surely the note would be explanation enough: ‘Leaving for Griddy’s at 11. Have an announcement. Spread the word.’

~

She always appreciated the rule of ‘no serious talk until we get to Griddy’s’ that her siblings had wordlessly implemented. Tonight especially, it let her take the time to gather her thoughts. 

The trek from the alley behind the mansion to Griddy’s was not one that was swarming with nightlife. Vanya let her hearing wander, taking in the hum of electricity coming from the lampposts, the buzz of passing cars, Allison and Ben discussing etymology, Luther and Klaus and Diego dicking around, Rhys talking at her about how he was ‘this close’ with some equations.

(She liked being able to get lost in sound.)

(It was like dissolving.) (Like dissipating to indistinguishability and simply existing as the world around her.)

It felt they got to Griddy’s too soon. She wasn’t ready to shift their new reality so drastically.

But Allison reached out and squeezed her hand. But it was time.

~

Luther got an apple fritter.

Diego got a lemon filled.

Allison got a raspberry twist.

Klaus got a snickers bar donut.

Rhys got a glazed old fashioned.

Ben got a coconut donut.

Vanya got a maple frosted cream filled.

Vanya watched the waitress take their orders and watched as she brought them out along with a pitcher of water and a carafe of coffee. The seven of them always squeezed into a booth meant for four people, unlucky Diego on the end this time.

She was squeezed into a corner, Luther next to her and Rhys across from her. She always liked sitting next to Luther. He didn’t complain if she stole his milk and he’d let her rest her head on his shoulder.

(She still didn’t know.) (Didn’t know if he only was like this because she was an apocalypse set to blow.) (But he was kind.) (And she was not all that used to kindness.)

It took her a moment, as she poured herself a coffee and sugared it to her liking, to notice the way all of her siblings had turned their attention to her. Allison smiled and gave a thumbs up when Vanya met her gaze.

(She still wasn’t used to being listened to.) (Let alone calling and leading a family meeting.)

“Um, so.” Vanya started fidgeting with her napkin, and she found she couldn’t look up. “I, um… I have an announcement.”

“Yes, Diego said,” Rhys said, drinking from his coffee. 

“What is it?” Ben asked. He had individual training today. He had bags under his eyes and blood left under his fingernails. Vanya cringed at the thought she was keeping him up so late. (She was cringing at the blood too.)

Vanya took a deep breath and forced herself to look at all of them. “I’ve been practicing lately.” She continues before Klaus can interrupt (she doesn’t know if she could keep going after an interruption,) “For some auditions I have set up in the winter. They’re for music schools.”

“M-music schools?” Diego asked. “Like… Like to g-go to?”

She made herself wait for him to stop talking before continuing. “Yeah. Yeah, two are in New York City, one is in Chicago.”

There was a beat of silence before Luther said, “So you’re trying to leave?”

Vanya looked over her siblings quickly to gauge their reactions. Luther and Diego and Ben still looked confused. Allison smiled supportively, still with that sad undertone of betrayal. Klaus looked heartbroken. Rhys just watched her, betraying no emotion. Just watched and drank his coffee. 

“Yes. I can’t keep staying there, surviving there.”

“You think we can?” She could hear the anger that laced Diego’s voice. 

“You can’t just leave!” Klaus said.

“Oh my God,” Ben said.

“We’re in this together, Vanya, you can’t just run off on your own anymore,” Luther said.

Rhys kept watching.

All of these things happened so close to each other, over lapping. Noise was like that. Like stained glass on stained glass on stained glass and there was so much in every sound she couldn’t tell what colors they were to start. It was just ugly, and there, and the coffee drip was so goddamn loud—

“This isn’t a discussion.” Allison’s voice was clear, sure. It was her weapon, and it cut through the rest of the sound and Vanya stopped shaking. “Vanya has this chance, and she could get away from the mind games Reginald keeps playing. We won’t hold it against her.”

Allison looked at each of their brothers, daring each of them to object. No one did.

“Would Reginald even let you go?” Ben asked, breaking the tense air. 

“I’ll make him,” Vanya said, and she had never heard her voice sound so solid. “If one of these schools accepts me, he doesn’t get a choice.”

“Okay,” Rhys said. “Can I listen to your audition songs sometime?”

Vanya smiled. “Of course.” She paused. “I wish you could all come with me, but—”

“But we’re too valuable,” Allison said.

“Can’t have Daddy’s little playthings flying the coop so soon, can we?” And Vanya wished she didn’t recognize that tone in Klaus’s voice. The tone of dry defeat. 

Their outing lightened from there. Vanya could tell Diego was mad, but just because he had to wait, and she couldn’t get a clear read on Rhys. Other than that, though, Luther was the only one who seemed uneasy.

He still offered to give her a piggy back on the way home, though, after she had yawned a few too many times. She figured things were okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyyy this is a bit of a long boy.
> 
> I'm a bit tired rn, but I wanted to get this out sooner than later, so let me know if there are any glaring errors, please and thank you <3
> 
> Some clarifications:  
> -I don't know how the heck canon technology is, so I'm going with normal time tech, just the Hargreeves kids are troglodytes  
> -I don't know what city this takes place in, I think it's fictional?, but I'm imagining Cincinnati, geography and vibe wise.
> 
> Thank you all for keeping up! We're getting to the end of this fic, but still, let me know how you're liking it :)
> 
> Edit 7/20/19: polish for final work


	8. Chapter 8

One upside to being drugged into oblivion had been that she never really got the pre-audition jitters, and when she did, she could just pop a pill. 

That was not an option now. 

As winter crept closer, Rhys would take her out one night a week, normally to clear fields, so she could be frustrated without worrying about keeping her powers in check.

The first time they did this, she finished a run through of Aviary then she sat down and sobbed. Sobbed with her eyes and with the sky and the electricity added to the hum of vibrations she always felt. She prayed the lightning wouldn’t start a fire. It was raining so much, she couldn’t tell where her tears were falling.

Someone sat down next to her. She took those resonances, the resonances of their breath, to center herself. She matched her breathing to theirs and reminded herself of her body, the container she was meant to occupy. She called her consciousness back from the storm.

Once she felt herself again, she looked at who was next to her. 

Klaus was there, and Rhys on the other side (she hadn’t realized there were two people.) 

“Rhys freaked out and grabbed me,” Klaus said, his voice with that familiar teasing lilt. Vanya let herself curl into him. 

“You didn’t white out that time,” Rhys said, defensive. “It was okay for me to leave a moment, and we all know I have things to be desired when it comes to emotional comfort.”

“Thanks, Rhys,” Vanya said, quietly. Her ears felt assaulted. They always felt assaulted when she exploded. She hoped Rhys knew she was saying ‘I love you.’ 

It was still raining. Her hands were shaking. Absently she realized her violin and its case were dry, the rain diverting around them. “Huh,” Vanya said, watching it, feeling the way (now she was looking for it) she was pulling the quivering of the rain drops around. “I didn’t know I could do that.”

Rhys and Klaus looked to where she was staring.

“That’s super fucking cool, Van,” Klaus said.

“Hm,” Rhys said. “I really do think we should start doing research into the science of sound. Everything in the universe vibrates, and if you’re able to control all vibrations, well, there’s so much potential.”

He stood and walked around the dry spot, and Vanya could see him turning equations in his mind. 

“Hey,” Vanya said, still soft. She wondered if she could ask Klaus for his headphones and MP3 player for the night. “Could you pack it up? And bring it over?”

Rhys nodded absently, but though his mind was elsewhere, he handled her violin with such care. She had never met Delores, but she knew he would have carried her with love, with the softness he so rarely displayed.

When he set in next to her, Vanya nodded, still melted against Klaus, with him running his hand on her back. 

With that comfort keeping her grounded, she closed her eyes. She felt out for the quivering raindrops all around them, and she willed them to part. To give them a few square feet without soaking.

“You did it,” Rhys breathed. He sat down on her other side. 

“Christ on a cracker, Vanya! You’re fantastic!”

Vanya smiled in their praise. She sat up and pulled out her violin.

In the year they’ve been back, Vanya learned that it helped to have something to channel her power through, and of course her violin handled it best (no matter how much Rhys pushed her to try other things, to ‘expand her comfort zone.’)

She checked the tuning quickly before letting that morph into Meditation. 

She knew it wasn’t perfect. But for once every slipped note and uneven vibrato didn’t make her falter more. It was simply a resonance, like everything else.

By the time the last note had faded, the night was clear again.

“Sis,” Klaus said, when the silence of the song had dissipated, “You’re going to knock the socks off those audition panels.”

Vanya’s face heated. “No one else stands a chance,” Rhys added.

And Vanya knew, she did, that her brothers knew fuck all about classical music, but in this moment, their acceptance was all that mattered.

~

Their fourteenth birthday came. It was spent with the seven of them digging through thrift stores, trying to create themselves. It was spent bussing around the city looking for the restaurant that Diego swore had the best shrimp tacos. It was spent losing track of time, all of them having to rush back into their uniforms before dinner started in ten minutes.

Then they were fourteen, and Reginald doubled down even harder, working all of Vanya’s siblings to collapse. 

Luckily Ben was able to talk her out of homicide when Allison came back from an afternoon of rumoring children into horrible deeds. 

Her first audition was on November tenth. Vanya threw all her energy that she couldn’t use to save her siblings into the preparations. She could play every the major and minor scale flawlessly, list off all the modes. She was sight reading at a decent level. She could explain why she found Sibelius a notable composer.

She was ready.

When Mom made her rounds to kiss everyone goodnight, Vanya asked her favor.

“Mom?” She began idly petting Vanya’s hair as she listened. “Um, tomorrow, could you tell everyone I’m sick?”

As Mom tilted her head to the side, that programmed smile in place, Vanya wondered if all her planning, all her work was about to collapse. “Do you feel like you’re coming down with something, dear?”

Vanya shook her head. “No, no, I just… I need the day off. A personal day.”

Mom’s smile froze before it softened, and she looked at Vanya, and Vanya knew this was her mother, in this moment, not any programming. “Of course, love. It is widely accepted that teenagers should have time that is unscheduled. It improves cognitive growth and functioning, as well as allowing for rest that is so often overlooked.”

Vanya smiled, and her mother smiled back and she could even hear the way Allison was smiling from across the room. 

“We won’t want anyone else getting sick,” Mom continued, with a twinkle in her eye, “So I’ll make sure you don’t have visitors. Will you be wanting meals?”

“I don’t think I’ll be feeling well enough.” It felt like her grin would split her face in two. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Goodnight, Vanya.” Mom turned towards the door. “Goodnight, Allison. Sleep well.”

~

An hour after lights out, her siblings filtered in to hype her up. Vanya knew she was so lucky they supported her in this. That their habit of constant fighting had fallen to the wayside (even Diego and Luther were working through their differences instead of yelling about them.)

She kicked them out at midnight, to rest. Then she spent two hours tossing in her sleep. She didn’t know how to deal with this.

She would walk into a room at 12:30 that afternoon and she would let herself be vulnerable for a panel of judges. God, she was so fucking anxious.

At 3:48 a.m. Vanya gave up on sleep. She grabbed her violin, reassured a half-asleep Allison, and silently made her way into her old room. She played through every portion of her audition, over and over, after each run through she’d mutter a list of things she needed to fix and she’d go again.

At 5:45 a.m. she heard in the recesses of her mind Mom walking to each room and waking her siblings for the day. Breakfast from 6 until 7. Vanya kept playing.

She had her day planned out. At eight she was planning to pack up her sheet music and get dressed for the day. She adjusted her plans. At 7:15 she set aside her instrument and read through her prepared interview remarks. She read through the notes she had made on the era of the Aviary and how Meditation worked in Thais.

She must have lost track of time, because at 8:07 there was a knock on her door. She checked her watch with a sigh. Then she opened the door to Mom’s smiling face.

“Mom,” Vanya said, a note of surprise coloring her voice. 

“Good morning, Vanya, dear. With you being sick today—” here she winked (Vanya didn’t know she could wink)—“I’ve been instructed to check up on you and deliver your medicine.”

“Thanks.” Vanya smiled. (She thought about actually taking a pill.) (She decided against it.)

“Of course, honey,” and with this she sat, perfect posture, perched on the edge of the bed that was still in there. “Could I hear what you’ve been practicing? If you have a moment, of course.”

Vanya glanced at her watch again. She would have time if she splurged on a cab later. “Yeah, Mom. I’d like that.”

Mom waited as Vanya checked the tuning. And she played, her mother’s bright eyes watching. (The only adult role model she had ever had.) (A robot that began swaying as her daughter launched into the motif from Aviary.)

The resonance faded as Vanya held her bow still over the strings. The moment she relaxed, Mom smiled and clapped softly.

“That was excellent, love. Whoever you’re trying to impress will be blown away.” With that, Mom patted Vanya’s cheek and left, pulling the door shut behind her. 

Vanya wondered. Was there anything she and her siblings did that Mom was unaware of? How much humanity did Mom hide in order to protect them?

(Vanya swore to herself in that moment that they wouldn’t leave Mom there alone ever again.)

She found in Klaus’s room that he had laid out an outfit for her that day. A pair of smart pinstriped pants in maroon and a black blouse, one loose enough around her shoulders that her movement wouldn’t be inhibited. There was a pair of simple black kitten heels next to it. They looked new. They were in her size, not his. She bit back her smile.

She changed quickly and braided half her hair out of her face. She carefully packed the shoes (Klaus had too much faith in her if he thought she could walk the city in heels) in her stolen messenger bag (Rhys had never asked for it back) and double checked that she had her portfolios prepared correctly, three of them, one for each judge. 

She pulled on the beat-up jean jacket she had ‘borrowed’ from Luther and laced up Klaus’s red converse (ignoring the way that firetruck red clashed with the maroon pants.) Then she climbed out the window. 

At exactly 9:12 a.m., Vanya walked into Mrs. Bhatti’s tea shop and stepped up to the end of the queue. It seemed mornings were much busier than afternoons.

Vanya approached the counter when it was her turn and smiled at Mrs. Bhatti, glad it was her at the register and not one of the other baristas running around. 

“You are in early today, Vanya. How come?”

“I have my first audition today, Rahmiya! I’ll definitely need caffeine this morning.”

Mrs. Bhatti “tch”ed but wrote an order on the side of a to go cup regardless. Vanya grinned at her (she was still foreign to friendship, but she was glad she had found it here) and she began pulling her wallet (a duct tape monstrosity that Klaus was all too proud of) but Mrs. Bhatti “tch”ed again.

“It’s on me this morning, bhanvara. For luck.” Mrs. Bhatti smiled, and waved her away to help the next customer.

At 9:37, Vanya was sipping on her chai tea (the spicy mix, with a black tea base, and honey), the dish that held the bread and fruit Mrs. Bhatti had gifted her was empty and pushed to the side. After all that morning stressing and prepping, she couldn’t find it in herself to cram. 

This was happening. 

Vanya drank her tea and left a tip. She stepped into the street, it felt calm for the city. She checked her watch. 10:22. (This obsession with time was ill-fitting.) (She felt like Rhys, in a way.) (Schedules drawn and redrawn and discarded.)

She caught a bus, checking the map she had printed at the library every stop. The pads of her fingers worried the buttons on her stolen coat.

At 11:09 she stared at the building with its classical architecture, some building of some university she had never spared a thought to. She walked up the steps. 

A lady at the front desk led her to a room. “The audition panel will join you when they’re ready,” she said, then Vanya was alone in the amphitheater style classroom. She tuned her instrument. She set aside her jacket and changed into her heels and laid out the portfolios.

She stood. In the same position a soloist would stand in, her bow aching for the strings.

Mindlessly, she played. Not her audition pieces, not scales, simply the Phantom of the Opera medley she had engrained in her mind so long ago.

She expanded and shrunk with each note, her soul tied into the reverberations of the bowstrings, of the pitched and coiled metal. 

Helen taunted her with passion—here it was.

At a time, four adults in business clothing filed into the room and her audition began. 

It was happening. 

~

The next audition was held on December 16. The day went the same as the last audition day had, and she had to remember to stay grounded even through the resonance, who knew how a judge would react to levitation.

The last audition was on January 3.

That night she snuck into her room and sat on her bed, too wired even to lie down.

All that was left was the waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hello once again I am /tired/ and once again I am /so darn compelled to publish this even tho I know it needs much editing/
> 
> Thusly, here is the penultimate chapter! OMG! So close!
> 
> I have many plans for this AU tho, do not fret. "Vanya goes to music school" is becoming my main writerly ambition
> 
> Danke for reading, Please let me know if this is not garbage! I appreciate you all! Have a lovely day! And/or evening!
> 
> Edit 7/20/19: polish for the completion of the fic


	9. Chapter 9

Though Vanya saved most of the money she made by playing on street corners, she would still splurge occasionally, mainly on things for her siblings. It was something she loved doing.

She would get Klaus and Allison clothing and make-up, and she’d get Diego 3-D puzzles (he had yet to figure out the Rubik’s cube), and she’d get Rhys fancy coffee. She’d always want to get Luther and Ben books, though, and she figured it was just as efficient to borrow some for them from the library.

One Thursday afternoon in March, Vanya lost track of her afternoon in the stacks, sipping her lukewarm jasmine tea. She’d found two books for Ben, young adult novels, the easy reads he preferred, and she was looking for a book for Luther.

Mr. Wagner met her at the desk once she had finished her perusal.

“These three for you today?” he asked, already going to stamp them.

“Yes, for my brothers,” she responded easily. (The people she met here, now, had no expectations of her.) (She didn’t have a set way to be.) (It was nice.) (It was exhausting.)

“You’ll have to tell me how your brother likes this one,” he said, setting The Fellowship of the Ring on top. “It’s one of my favorites. Did you get a response?”

Vanya froze, inches from grabbing the books and saying her goodbye. “Shit,” she breathed, and rushed to the computers, ignoring Mr. Wagner’s admonishments.

It took so many long moments to get to her email, each click of the keyboard and click of the mouse built in her, twisting in with her anxiety and she thought she heard thunder. There was a new email sitting in her inbox.

From The Chicago Academy for the Arts.

“Shit,” she said again. She clicked into the message. She read the first few words, until, ‘Congratulations.’

She made a high pitched squeal, and the rain slowed outside in the sudden sun, maybe there was a rainbow. She ran back to the counter to grab her books. “I got in!” she failed at keeping her voice down. “I got in!”

“That’s excellent, Vanya!” Mr. Wagner said, then she was off.

She tumbled through Klaus’s window just minutes later, breathless, ignoring that Klaus was half dressed, a cigarette dangling from his lips. 

“Klaus!” She threw herself into his arms hugging him tight before practically bouncing away. “I did it! I got into Chicago! I did it!”

His face had lit up in reflection of hers, and he grabbed her arms and started jumping. “You did it!”

It turned into a chant, them jumping up and down together, screaming “I/You did it!”

Moments later, Diego rushed into the room. “You did it?”

“I did it!”

The rest of her siblings piled in and joined the celebration. 

The scolding they all received for being late to dinner was worth it, it didn’t even matter that Reginald had sent them away before they had the chance to eat. They snuck away that night, with Vanya picking the restaurant.

She did it.

~

The next time she was able to sneak away to the library, she immediately logged in to the computer to read the acceptance email more carefully. She found two more emails waiting for her.

One of the New York schools had sent a rejection, but the Frank Sinatra School of the Arts accepted her. 

She read each acceptance letter closely, noting the stipulations and expectations the schools outlined for her. She researched them more, focusing now on alumni accounts and achievements. She printed out information on them, and each of her acceptance letters. 

The schools required her to announce if she intended to enroll by April first. Ten days away.

She had a decision to make. 

~

She loved them dearly, but Klaus and Allison got tired of aiding Vanya’s indecision after two days.

When she went to Diego, asking how he decided to go to the police academy, he’d simply shrugged and said, “Felt right.” Rhys wasn’t any help either, as he’d only ever made decisions in life-or-death scenarios. 

This was why, five days before the deadline, she walked into Luther’s room, piles of her research in her hands. Luther and Ben were both there, sprawled out and reading the books Vanya had brought them from the library.

Ben waved absently as she walked in. Luther looked up. “Hey, Vanya. What’s up?”

Vanya tried to push down the wave of guilt she felt. Her interactions with these two brothers were typically transactional, when one of them needed help or had something to exchange. 

“Um, hey,” she said, and hefted her papers before setting them on Luther’s desk. “I need some help with this decision thing.”

“Yeah, you’re deciding between Chicago and New York?” Ben said, setting aside his book, a scrap of paper marking his page. Her brothers both sat, focusing their attention on her.

“Yeah.” Vanya gulped. She really needed to decide today. “So, I’ve built a pros and cons list, but they’re pretty even, and no one has been any help—”

“Can we see the list?” Luther asked. She hummed wordlessly and handed it over. They scanned over it and she watched them anxiously.

“Do you have a list of priorities?” Ben asked. “When Klaus was in rehab, I watched the counselors help patients with their post release plans. They did some fancy thing on excel, but I’m sure we can figure it out on paper.”

She blinked at him. That was new advice. Klaus hadn’t mentioned anything like it. (She wondered, sometimes, if he ever really tried to get better in rehab.) (Then she’d banish the thought.) (It was one of the ugly ones.)

“Um, I haven’t done that. I… I don’t really know.”

Over the next hour, Ben helped her categorize what was important to her, what would make her most comfortable in the now as well as help her get to where she wants to be in this life. (Luther had returned to reading.) (He’d said he’d never been good at decisions.)

There was only one more variable to examine, and New York was solidly in the lead. 

For some reason, that made her stomach churn. 

“Okay, so how important is distance to you?”

And her stomach dropped out.

“I’m going to Chicago.” She didn’t know if she had ever said something with that level of certainty. “It’s closer.”

It was a four hour bus ride to Chicago, that was reasonable for a weekend trip. Her siblings could visit her for a few days, or she could come here for important events (like their birthday.)

Ben smiled. “I was kinda hoping.”

She hugged him tightly, then interrupted Luther to hug him as well. “I’ll go tell the others.”

Before she got to the door, Luther spoke up. “When are you going to tell Da—Reginald?”

“Fuck. I’ve gotta plan that out.”

~

T-minus three days until the deadline, Vanya knocked on Reginald’s office, the same as she did every night after dinner.

She had run her plan past Luther and Rhys that afternoon, but no one else knew what she was about to do. They agreed the plan was risky at best, but neither of her brothers had been able to think of anything better.

She hoped desperately that the worst did not come. 

“Enter.” She could hear the icicles in his voice. They were always present, even in his rare praise.

He set her to the work of quantifying the results of Rhys’s current training regimen, making her sort through weeks of notes. He sat at his desk, writing whatever his evil mind found so important. It took her until 8:48 p.m. to build the courage to speak. 

“Sir,” she started, and though he gave her no sign of attention, she knew he heard her. “I’ve been accepted into the Chicago Academy for the Arts and I intend to go in the fall.”

Reginald paused and looked at her, stony in his silence, an invitation to continue. So she laid out the plan she’d cobbled together. 

“I’ve been given a scholarship that covers half of tuition, so you would be paying for the remainder as well as my rent and living expenses. I have been working with Grace for over eight months now on what it takes to run a household, so I will be able to care for myself in that regard. I am useless at the Academy here, I am Ordinary. With me gone, it will free up you and Grace and Pogo to turn more attention to the actual heroes. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Vanya remained standing, waiting for Reginald’s verdict. The seconds on the clock ticked into minutes, each beat echoing and reverberating. And her spoke.

“I don’t believe so, Number Seven. The others may get ideas, and you are marginally helpful with paperwork.” Vanya remained standing and staring. “That’s my final response.”

He stared at her, but she stared right back. (She had never stood up to him like this.) (Not in either lifetime.) Her expression didn’t waver. “I think you should reconsider.”

“Number Seven,” Reginald began, his voice as sharp as punishment, but he stopped talking quickly as Vanya hummed.

Vanya hummed, a measured tone, hanging in the air as the rest of noise froze. That eerie near silence and the lightbulb in a lamp shattered. The paintings and relics and books around the room began to shake and hover and Vanya smiled as she built a breeze into a whirlwind.

“Number Seven,” he said again, and she heard fear in his voice for the first time ever. “Stop this—”

“I think you should reconsider,” she said again, and with her words everything settled. The wind died. The sounds from beyond the room returned. 

Reginald looked petrified in his chair and Vanya just kept staring.

“Very well.” Vanya didn’t allow herself to relax quite yet. “On one stipulation. You restart taking your medicine.”

“I believe that is doable. I’ll contact the school to let them know I’m enrolling.”

He nodded. She left. Only once the door was firmly shut behind her did she smile.

~

She shouldn’t have been surprised that Reginald wanted her shipped off at the soonest convenience, but when he stood after dinner the day after he agreed to let her go and announced she would be moving the next day to attend an Ordinary school, she felt the shock in her bones.

She thought she’d have more time.

That night was of tears and hurried packing, hoping she didn’t forget anything important as she stuffed the single duffel bag Pogo brought to her room. 

Her siblings were furious, but they knew there was nothing to be done about the time frame.

(Later, when she was unpacking almost a week later in her new apartment, she found they had each managed to shove gifts and notes into her bag.) 

(Klaus, a tie dye t-shirt cut into a crop top that she would never pick out herself.) (She was going to wear it so much.)

(Allison, a small nail kit with a couple shade of polish.) (She always complained about how the constant practice would treat her fingers.)

(Diego, the wraps she used for her hands when she was boxing.) (She knew that as what it was.) (A reminder that emotions needed release.) (She’d have to find a gym.)

(Rhys, a text book. (Of course.) (But it was about the world’s vibrations.) 

(Luther, a model plane he had spent weeks last fall assembling.) (He was painting it while listening to her practice.) (She’d gotten frustrated and her wind splattered yellow paint all over it.) (She wasn’t sure why he didn’t paint over it.)

(Ben, some sheet music.) (Rolled up with the note ‘this is one of my favorites.’)

(She’d left them parting gifts as well of course. Simple things mostly.) (Except for Klaus.) (An envelope stuffed with money and the schedule for buses to Chicago and a note.) (‘I’m waiting.’)

~

On the morning of March 31st, Vanya carried her stolen messenger bag and violin onto the train. Mom followed close behind her with her duffle bag and a hard case that held a portable charging station for while she helped Vanya settle.

Reginald had not allowed her siblings to send her off. 

The next day would start a new world for her.

April first. 

Adaption not shatter.

Vanya would survive this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks!
> 
> I've created a collection for the fics I write in this verse (aka the 'Vanya goes to music school' verse), so y'all can expect more, because I have a good few ideas.
> 
> Let me know if there's anything you want to see! I'm pretty excited I'm continuing this, and I hope some of you are too.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this all the way through <3


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